


Robin

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Dreams, Erections, Frottage, M/M, Morning Wood, Riding, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 05:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13287642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Last night... he'd given in. He had pushed open the door and he'd gotten an eyeful of the one thing he'd alwayswanted– Bruce waiting on him, his suit so nicely pressed and elegant, sitting in the chair Dick had daydreamed a million totally inappropriate things about over the years, and a look in his eyes that held so many promises. He'd held out one hand, silent, wordless, and Dick had gone to him, allowed himself to be tugged up into the chair to straddle Bruce's thighs –





	Robin

**Author's Note:**

> For my writing challenge #8 An Open Door.  
> May be a little off in left field. Ah well, mostly I just wanted Dick riding Bruce in a chair after Dick walked in on him with his cock out. Managed that one pretty well! Self-indulgence up in here like woah.  
> Beta Readers: kate1zena

Dick sighed, pushing one hand through his hair. He was tired, _bone_ tired if he were being completely honest. Usually he would have blamed being overworked or the fact that he held both a day job and a night job, or even the fact that he was horrible at time management. This time, though, _this time_ it wasn't any of that. Rather, it was the eternal plague of a dream he didn't really want to have in the first place. 

Four nights in a row now he'd had the exact same dream. He'd walk down a hallway, no end in sight, and he'd start opening doors. Each one revealing pieces of his past as he walked by them. The first few were always the same: jumping between train cars as a kid, the quick thrill of it and the utter confidence that he'd be just fine; a moment he'd caught between his parents - just a conversation he hadn't been able to overhear - but the way they were looking at each other showed true affection; the instant the rope snapped and the image of his parents falling to their deaths below, the sensation of his heart leaping into his chest, everything telling him to do something about it and _knowing_ he couldn't. The knowledge that he was entirely powerless was always swift and agonizing. He'd stand there at that door, watching it repeat itself for what felt like hours before moving on, his steps dragging, his shoulders hunched, and he'd start to see his secrets revealed to him.

A lie he told as a child to get out of trouble.

The truth that he'd cheated on his very first girlfriend by kissing his best friend and that he'd never told her. He had even coerced his friend into not telling either. A lie he'd forced them to share. That one left an ache in his gut, the reality behind it so stark and obvious in the light of hindsight. Things he should have done but hadn't, words he should have spoken and didn't. He'd never once cheated again in his life, but it left him with a brand across his soul, something he'd never be able to erase despite having been barely into his teens at the time. His eternal shame in his life as Dick Grayson.

After his secrets were laid bare, door after door after that revealed to him all the close calls in his life - most of them as Nightwing. The time he'd almost gotten a little girl killed by not realizing one of the thugs he was fighting had given him the slip. The barest clip of Tim falling off the side of a building, Dick reaching for him, and that look of utter resignation on Tim's face, like he knew death was embracing him. 

Dick knew the rest of that one even though it didn't show it, forced himself to remember it even in the dream. Wally had stepped up, came barreling in to save Tim from certain death and an instant after the clip rewound and started again Tim had been standing next to him, healthy but a little wound up, and they'd never spoken of it beyond Dick's broken attempt to apologize and Tim's blatant avoidance of the subject.

Every bullet that had grazed one of them that he should have seen, every near failure, even his own capture a number of times in his career, and the unmasking that only he and Midnighter could remember now.

He'd get to the last door and, so very unlike the others, it would always be ajar. The past three nights, he'd be far too afraid to push it all the way open, too afraid to see what it revealed because it seemed like the door held the future, as if it held something he shouldn't know yet. 

Last night... he'd given in. He had pushed open the door and he'd gotten an eyeful of the one thing he'd always _wanted_ – Bruce waiting on him, his suit so nicely pressed and elegant, sitting in the chair Dick had daydreamed a million totally inappropriate things about over the years, and a look in his eyes that held so many promises. He'd held out one hand, silent, wordless, and Dick had gone to him, allowed himself to be tugged up into the chair to straddle Bruce's thighs – 

And he'd jolted himself awake, fear lancing through him at the idea of that being in the hallway of his fuck-ups. One thing still nagged at him hours later. The first two things hadn't been like the rest, just as the last one didn't seem to be, and he kept finding his mind wandering back to it as if he were trying to figure out what he was supposed to actually make of it. 

He'd woken up with a raging hard-on and a mindset to ignore the hell out of it. The first half an hour of his day had been incessantly irritating due to how awkward it was to wander around getting ready with a massive boner tenting out his pants. Eventually ignoring it had worked, though he was left with a myriad of sexual thoughts bombarding him at the most inconvenient times: while brushing his teeth, halfway through his breakfast, three times on the drive from Blüdhaven to the manor, and _now_ , as he climbed the stairs to the second floor with Bruce's breakfast, having relieved Alfred of the tray to preserve him of the climb to the second floor. 

Pausing by Bruce's door, he closed his eyes and counted to ten to pull his mind back out of the ridiculous pit it kept falling into and shifted the tray enough to open the door. Stepping inside, he took two steps and then came to a dead stop, fire igniting inside him, rushing through his body quickly enough that he felt like he was in shock.

Bruce stood next to his dresser, a pair of clean boxer briefs in hand, every stitch of his clothing in a pile on the floor, and it seemed that Bruce had woken up in much the same state Dick had this morning given how very hard he was.

Dick very nearly dropped the breakfast tray, but managed to tighten his fingers just before it would have slipped and sucked in a shaky breath. He _knew_ he should look away, knew he shouldn't be invading Bruce's privacy like this, knew he should have _knocked_ , but mostly all he could think was how much he'd always wanted to see this, how long he'd wanted to know exactly how big Bruce's cock was when he was hard, how many times he'd sneaked a peek at him while they were changing or – to his own shame – when Bruce had been hurt and they'd had to get his clothing off to work on him.

Bruce didn't move, didn't say anything at all, and for a moment Dick wondered if he'd passed out on the stairs out of exhaustion and was simply dreaming. He gripped the tray hard enough it dug into his palms, stood there with his entire body tingling and his morning erection coming back with a vengeance. It had to be obvious, in the pants he'd chosen there was just no way it wasn't. 

Part of him wanted to put the tray in the way, to give them both deniability, but the other part just wanted to show Bruce what he did to him, what he'd _always_ done to him. It wasn't like he was a kid anymore, he hadn't even been a _teen_ in years. He was an adult and he was perfectly allowed to feel this way about Bruce now. 

This quiet validation slipped through him, and he lifted his feet and placed them one in front of the other until he was at the dresser, _inches_ from Bruce – and Bruce's very erect cock. Placing the tray down on the dresser, he paused, intentionally looking Bruce right in the face, studying the way Bruce's pupils were blown, the slight part to his lips, and further down the telling hint of a flush along Bruce's throat. His eyes trailed over broad shoulders, down over his chest and over the tight buds of his nipples, across the planes of his abs and then down to the prize in this Bruce-exclusive package. Bruce's foreskin was pulled tight around the head of his cock, a shimmering droplet of precum beaded right at the tip. Dick watched as Bruce flexed it and the drop began the slow slide down his shaft, over the gentle ridge of veins, along the thick length of it that Dick wanted to judge the size of with any part of his body Bruce would accept, and down to his heavy sac nestled in the most meticulously trimmed pubic hair he'd ever seen in his life. 

Reaching for the dresser, Dick gripped it harshly, listened to himself pant like a damn fool. His erection twitched in his pants, everything in him wanting to reach in and start jerking off like he really should have this morning. 

"Close the door."

Dick jerked out of it, gasping in a breath and realizing what he was doing. Anguish swept through him like a tidal wave, every apology in the book welling up and threatening at his tongue though he knew it would do him no good. Turning away he forced his feet to rush toward the door. Grasping the handle, he hurried into the hallway, pulling the door shut with him, his hands shaking by the time he heard Bruce's voice again.

"Did I tell you to leave?"

He froze there, the door most of the way closed, his hand gripping the handle hard enough he was honestly surprised it wasn't threatening to give under the strain. 

Swallowing thickly, he managed a quiet, "No, Sir."

There was an amused huff of breath from Bruce and then a quiet, "Please come back in here and _then_ close the door."

Dick slipped back inside and closed the door, leaning back against it and very pointedly looking only at the floor in front of his feet, knowing how obvious he had to be. Part of him whispered about all of the fantasies he'd ever had while most of him screamed how stupid he was and how much this talk was going to hurt.

"You're smarter than this, I know you are. Examine the case without emotion, like I've always taught you."

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a shuddering breath and forcing his mind into gear as if this weren't himself and Bruce. 

The door had been unlocked. Alfred had given him the tray with a smile – something perhaps like a knowing smile – and it was suspect that he'd let Dick do his work for him. It was... nine in the morning. No reason Bruce should even be awake much less standing naked in his room. By all rights Bruce should have slept until eleven as he always did. 

Bruce had made no move to cover up this whole time, was still holding his underwear in one hand – or had been when Dick had last looked. There was no way that moment where he'd been right there next to him had been truly _short_. If anything he'd been there nearly a full minute, long enough for Bruce's brain to kick in and yell at him to leave if he had wanted to.

No anger. No resentment. No attempt to cover up. Curiosity in his gaze and... and his pupils were blown to hell. Bruce was aroused both mentally and physically then. Precum... the tightness of his balls... it added up to one very aroused individual, perhaps more so than Dick himself even was. 

Taking in a shuddering breath, Dick offered quietly, "You haven't covered up."

"Do you really want me to?" Amusement again, just the barest tinge of it.

Dick shivered, his cock straining at the seam of his pants as he shook his head. "No."

"You've wanted this for years."

He remembered the first time he'd realized he wanted Bruce, how his teenage hormones had fed him image after image of Bruce's hands on his body, his mouth on Dick's cock, how he'd imagined all the ways Bruce could pleasure him and how later in his life that had struck him as interesting. Every other fantasy he'd ever had of others involved him giving them pleasure – his mouth on their cock or his tongue lapping at their pussy, his fingers buried inside them, him desperately seeking the right angle to blow their mind heedless of how it wasn't the right pace for him to get off – but with the fantasies about Bruce, it had always been the opposite – Bruce giving Dick what he wanted and needed: his hand around Dick's cock, his mouth working miracles wherever he put it, Dick riding his cock so he could find the right pace and angle and fall apart in the most amazing way possible. The few times he'd thought of being on his knees for Bruce it was always coupled with his own intense desire to do that until his own completion, because he was fixated orally for that week or month. 

Sucking in a shaky breath, he shrugged. "Never been able to help it. Tried real hard not to want it but it just never worked."

Dick heard Bruce shifting, mentally mapped out where he was, what he could have been doing, imagined him resting on the dresser now, maybe his ass pressed against the top of it, half leaning and half sitting. 

"If I were anyone else and still standing here stark naked and very much aroused... what would you be doing right now?"

"Trying desperately to get in your very-nonexistent pants."

"Then one might wonder why you're all the way across the room with your eyes closed."

For an instant Dick swore his heart stopped beating. His head snapped up and he took in the fact that Bruce was indeed exactly where he'd thought he would be and Dick's gaze flickered to the armchair next to the dresser, to the huge comforting plush chair that had haunted his fantasies for years.

"You know I want to have sex with you, right? Not just stare at you until you're bored."

This time the huff of breath Bruce gave was actually a laugh. "You think _me_ ignorant in the ways of sexual attraction?"

"Just want to be clear here." Some small voice in the back of Dick's mind asked him where he was summoning the courage to banter with Bruce like this from, asked him how on earth he was sounding like a rational human being – and another voice answered, lower than his usual voice, and whispered one word.

_Robin._

He shuddered, his cock straining until he felt the smallest spurt of precum dampen his briefs and only then did he shove away from the door and stalk his way across the room. 

He may not be Robin anymore, but Batman always deserved the worship of his Robin and _this_ , this was not something for Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne to hash out. It never had been. This was between the world's greatest detective and his protégé.

His eyes flicked to the chair and Bruce automatically moved toward it, taking a seat, shifting until he was in just the right position for Dick to straddle him and take whatever he wanted. Pausing, Dick slid his hands down to his own pants, began to wrench open his belt, watching Bruce avidly. 

"Supplies?"

Bruce reached over and opened his top drawer, gestured at it, and then settled back again. "Take what you need."

 _Robin_. The word echoed unspoken on the air between them and Dick swore he was going to lose it in his pants before he ever got the damn things open. 

Kicking off his shoes, he finally got his belt and fly open and shoved everything down all at once. His socks came off with it all and before he could let any rational thought back in, he'd extracted a bottle of lube and a condom from the drawer and laid them out on top of the dresser.

Leaning over Bruce, he put his hands on the arms of the chair and crawled up onto it as he'd always imagined he would have. His bare thighs brushed Bruce's and he gasped, sliding all the way down until he was straddling him, until Bruce's cock was pressing right up against his hole and his hips were rocking all on their own.

Bruce's hands slid up over his thighs to his hips, rubbing circles there and then grasping him as he thrust up against him a few times, cock sliding along the valley between his cheeks. It felt like sin and it felt like Heaven. 

"How long have you wanted this?"

Dick shook his head, embarrassment flooding him at that question. "Longer than you want anything to do with."

Bruce hummed softly, leaning in and just pressing his lips to Dick's throat. "Best you did not walk in on me until now then."

"Do this often?" It was Dick's turn to sound amused. "Wait for someone to open the door and find you all hot and bothered and completely naked?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then how – exactly – would I have," he gasped as he pressed the head of Bruce's cock against his hole again, rubbed a bit frantically for a second, "walked in on you before now."

"If you had no hangups about age would you have tried?"

Closing his eyes, Dick just gave a small nod. "Yeah, guess I would have."

"And that would not have gone well, would it?"

"I'd think not. I always sort of envisioned getting kicked out, a screaming match after I tried to argue my point – that I was old enough to know what I wanted – and you being more turned off than you'd ever been in your life."

Another little hum from Bruce and a nip to his Adam's apple. "Fair assessment though I would have probably tried to talk you out of it before being completely rash about kicking you out."

"Oh yes, because _Robin_ should always approve of _underage_ sex and promoting someone to give in to _pedophilic_ urges." Dick snorted. "I'm sure you would have been very _un_ rash about it."

"I suppose I would have been very upset."

"That's more like it." Dick squirmed forward until he could rub his erection against Bruce's abdomen, gasped as he grabbed the back of the chair and started to actually thrust against him, desperate for the friction he'd been being denied since this morning. "Dreamed about you this morning. About straddling you like this."

"Did you cum?"

Dick let out a soft cry, his hips jerking and then stilling. "No!" He hunched over, reached under himself and took hold of Bruce's cock, gave it a few quick strokes and then held it still as he shifted back to press it against his hole again, rubbing against it. "Never... give in."

"All these years and not once?"

"Not from a dream." Dick let go of Bruce and reached for the lube, snatching it up and shifting back enough to squirt it on Bruce's cock and rub it in real well before he grasped him again and moved forward, settling with his cock pressed against his hole again. "Only if I set out intentionally to think about you while getting off."

Dick rocked his hips and then shifted into a better position before pushing back on Bruce's length, groaning as part of the head slipped up inside him, the best part of being penetrated presenting itself. His cock strained and he held Bruce still as he fucked himself on just the head, growing harder and harder by the second, little grunts and groans of pleasure leaving his lips as his excitement escalated. 

Bruce's hands slid up under his shirt, ghosted over his abdomen and then up along his sides and around to his back where they pressed, holding him for more leverage, letting Dick press against his hands as a way to get more of what he wanted. 

"Find everything you need." _Robin_. 

Dick let out a sharp cry, his cock harder than he thought it'd ever been before, his thighs trembling from effort, his body wanting to shove Bruce's cock all the way up inside him but his mind remembering the condom on the dresser and how he should already be using it, how Batman would be so ashamed of Robin for forgetting and – 

He choked off the scream that wanted out at the mere idea of this being between them _like that_ and he had to pull himself up off Bruce's cock before he actually impaled himself fully on him. "Want you _so fucking bad_."

"Then take me. I'm not stopping you." _Robin_.

Dick shifted enough to stare down at Bruce's cock, at how hard he was all slicked up with lube and nestled in Dick's hand. He didn't _want_ to use the condom with Bruce, didn't want a barrier between them. He wanted his cum flooding up inside him, wanted to know him as intimately as possible, wanted to feel Bruce's everything.

"Say what you're thinking."

"I want you to cum inside me." His eyes flicked up to Bruce's own and he found light and arousal there and it was all he could do to not drive himself down on Bruce's cock instantly.

Bruce's hands came down to his hips, guided him until he was over his cock again and then Bruce's hips were arching, his cock sliding up inside Dick with almost no resistance at all, something about the whole moment so soothing Dick wasn't clenching at all. 

He slid down to meet him, let his knees press against the sides of the chair, his body settling on Bruce's lap, his cock buried up inside him, and he moaned as he started to rock his hips, jerking harshly against every tilt that tingled the little bundle of nerves inside him. 

"Touch me, make me cum, _please_."

Bruce's hands slid back up along Dick's back and suddenly he was thrusting, surging up into Dick and Dick was crying out, trembling against the onslaught of Bruce's cock touching everything in him he'd ever wanted him to touch. 

This was happening. Really and truly happening. He was in Bruce's room, in _the_ chair, and Bruce was – _oh_

Bruce's cock strained and then began to twitch up inside him as he started to cum. 

Dick watched as Bruce strained upward and then slowly relaxed, listened as he moaned, his hips jerking every few seconds as he emptied himself inside Dick's body. 

"How long have you wanted me?"

Rather than answer, Bruce tugged him down, crushed their lips together and kissed him like his life depended on it. Dick couldn't help himself, couldn't stop his hips from starting to move or the way he began to ride Bruce's still very much erect cock.

He only broke their kiss to choke out, "I'm cumming!" a few sharp jerks of his hips before he was losing it, thick spurts of his cum painting Bruce's abdomen, splashing up over the toned muscles. Pushing his forehead down against Bruce's shoulder Dick worked on evening out his breathing. He was honestly a little surprised at how hard he was breathing though he knew when he was trying to be quiet he ended up winded instead. Sniffing, he swallowed hard and drew in a deep calming breath.

Bruce's hands moved soothingly over his t-shirt, rubbing lightly at him until he was breathing normally again, until all he was hiding against Bruce's shoulder was the huge grin he couldn't quite get off his face. "This just happened, didn't it? I mean... I'm not asleep or something?"

Bruce pressed a kiss to his temple and he could feel the curve of the smile there. "Use your detective skills, Robin."

Grinning, Dick turned to press a kiss to Bruce's neck and then just rested there. 

"It's real."


End file.
